ONE KIND OF WIRELESS When, after school that afternoon, Alex Ward waved a good-by to his father, the Bixton station agent for the Middle Western, and set off up the track on the spring’s first fishing, he had little thought of exciting experiences ahead of him. Likewise, when two hours later a sudden heavy shower found him in the woods three miles from home, and with but three small fish, it was only... more...

Two Christmas Celebrations. A great many years ago, Augustus Caesar, then Emperor of Rome, ordered his mighty realm to be taxed; and so, in Judea, it is said, men went to the towns where their families belonged, to be registered for assessment. From Nazareth, a little town in the north of Judea, to Bethlehem, another little but more famous town in the south, there went one Joseph, the carpenter, and... more...

GENERAL PREFACE TO THE WAVERLEY NOVELS And must I ravel outMy weaved-up follies?                       Richard II, Act IV. Having undertaken to give an Introductory Account of the compositions which are here offered to the public, with Notes and Illustrations, the Author, under whose name they are now for the first time collected, feels that he has the delicate task of speaking... more...

Greece is certainly the most daring little kingdom! Far from being alarmed by the message sent her from the Powers, she has replied that it is impossible for her to withdraw her troops from Crete. She states that her object in sending them there was to restore peace, and as serious troubles still exist in the island, she cannot comply with the request of the Powers. In the reply, she further states... more...

PREFACE For a long time, in the hopefulness and confidence of youth, I dreamed of going to Palestine. But that dream was denied, for want of money and leisure. Then, for a long time, in the hardening strain of early manhood, I was afraid to go to Palestine, lest the journey should prove a disenchantment, and some of my religious beliefs be rudely shaken, perhaps destroyed. But that fear was removed by... more...

CHAPTER I. “There is something in this climate, after all. I suppose there are not many places where one could lie on the shore in December, and enjoy the air as much as I have done for the last two hours.” Harry Molyneux turned his face seaward again as he spoke, and drank in the soft breeze eagerly; he could scarcely help thanking it aloud, as it stole freshly over his frame, and played gently... more...

PICTURE.   Winter's wild birthnight! In the fretful East  The uneasy wind moans with its sense of cold,  And sends its sighs through gloomy mountain gorge,  Along the valley, up the whitening hill,  To tease the sighing spirits of the pines,  And waste in dismal woods their chilly life.  The sky is dark, and on the huddled leaves—  The restless, rustling leaves—sifts down its... more...

CHAPTER I I had a vexing dream one night, not long ago: it was about a fortnight after Christmas.  I dreamt I flew out of the window in my nightshirt.  I went up and up.  I was glad that I was going up.  “They have been noticing me,” I thought to myself.  “If anything, I have been a bit too good.  A little less virtue and I might have lived longer.  But one cannot have everything.”  The... more...

CHAPTER I. Where the North Fork of the Stanislaus River begins to lose its youthful grace, vigor, and agility, and broadens more maturely into the plain, there is a little promontory which at certain high stages of water lies like a small island in the stream. To the strongly-marked heroics of Sierran landscape it contrasts a singular, pastoral calm. White and gray mosses from the overhanging rocks and... more...

MY BUNKIE   He's mostly gnarls and freckles and tan,  He'd surely come under society's ban,  He's a swearin', fightin' cavalryman,    But—he's my bunkie.   He's weathered the winds of the Western waste.  (You, gentle Christian, would call him debased)  And he's loved at his ease and married in haste,    Has my bunkie.   In a... more...